


home_is_where.png

by Lasenby_Heathcote, panacea_knits



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Background Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, POV Second Person, Team as Family, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasenby_Heathcote/pseuds/Lasenby_Heathcote, https://archiveofourown.org/users/panacea_knits/pseuds/panacea_knits
Summary: MAYHome is your legs kicked up on your best friend's lap on the couch with your hair hanging off the side trying to drink a glass of water without sitting up because why not? It's Sunday and there's nothing to do but trade inside jokes as old as the hills like,remember that time we tried to go on a date but you were more interested in the waitress—shutup, Steve, she had a lip piercing, I'm only human!You're trying to kick him in the face now, bare feet pushing into his cheek,augh, Nat!! You stink!!Why are you sniffing Nat's feet,asks the bemused gorgeous man in the doorway, setting his backpack down and shaking out his hair.





	home_is_where.png

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Lasenby_Heathcote for the lovely art that inspired this RBB fic! Thanks also to the_genderman for beta reading. :)

MAY

Home is your legs kicked up on your best friend's lap on the couch with your hair hanging off the side trying to drink a glass of water without sitting up because why not? It's Sunday and there's nothing to do but trade inside jokes as old as the hills like, _remember that time we tried to go on a date but you were more interested in the waitress—_

 _shut_ _up_ _, Steve, she had a lip piercing, I'm only human!_

When he laughs your whole body shakes and your water spills, no matter, it'll dry, _hey that reminds me, we're all out of paper towels, can you put it on the list? ...I don't know, maybe I would if you weren't always saying you can't read my handwriting! ...Asshole I heard that, they're not chicken scratches—_

You're trying to kick him in the face now, bare feet pushing into his cheek, _augh, Nat!! You stink!!_

 _Why are you sniffing Nat's feet,_ asks the bemused gorgeous man in the doorway, setting his backpack down and shaking out his hair.

 _I wasn't_ _sniffing_ _, she started it—_

_Look, if you have a foot thing, hon—_

_I do not have a foot thing!!_

Home is laughing and rolling off the sofa, pretending to need another glass of water so these two dorks can smooch hello in private; run the water a little longer than necessary and clomp a bit on the way back in but NOPE, it's ass-grope city when you get there, _guys!! You have a bedroom! You have_ _two_ _!”_

 _Yes, mom,_ Bucky mumbles and next time you'll use a plastic cup so you can throw it at his head.

They do disappear to a bedroom though, so it's Netflix out here with the headphones on and the volume up, not that they're _loud_ , per se, just _enthusiastic_ and the walls are pretty thin.

The show's a drama but you're smiling anyway.

 

JUNE

Home is in your PJs on the sofa when the front door unlatches and they're beaming bright as sunshine the two of them, _holy shit, what,_ and you can barely hear the story over the sound of your own excited squealing, _engaged?! Oh my god, who asked?!_

Home is the way Steve blushes up to his eyebrows and Bucky ducks his head like he's all embarrassed, oh, what you would've given to see it; of course it's right that it was private but still.

Your heart feels so full it might burst and it's Thai food on the house tonight.

 

JULY

Home is Bucky's arm acting up and Steve keeps swooping in to open jars and things for him, he's trying to help but Bucky keeps tensing, so you run out to the store the next day for one of those grippy one-handed jar opener thingamabobs and leave it in the kitchen drawer.

Bucky never exactly says thank you but he does pile extra bacon on your pancakes the next time it's his turn to cook breakfast, and you grin around every bite.

Your Fourth of July lakeside barbecue at the park down the block doubles as an engagement party. Steve considers himself somewhat of a grill master (one of the sole leftovers of his frat boy days) and when he sets his mind to something he'll take no help, thank you, so that leaves you and Bucky skipping stones across the water while your other friends take turns pushing each other on the tire swing and jumping off the play structure. You're all too old for this kind of thing, probably, but oh well.

By the time the sun goes down everyone's filtered home except you and Bucky and Steve, which is just as well, really - more s'mores for you. You've got a knack for getting the marshmallows perfectly browned, so Bucky lets you make all of his. When Steve pretends to be jealous Bucky smears half-melted chocolate on his face and kisses it off, which seems to satisfy Mr. Sensitive.

You get home with a s'mores-induced stomach ache and about a million bug bites, but you wouldn't change a thing.

 

AUGUST

Home is looking out the kitchen window at the rain coming down, washing the same dish twice because you can't focus and your eyes keep blurring; of course they're moving out after the wedding, it only makes sense, and Steve was so matter-of-fact about it—a kindness on his part not to imply you needed handholding...oh shit, he's back, you'd wipe your eyes but there's soap on your hands and it's too late anyway, he's got his arms wrapped around your waist and his head on your shoulder, which is hilarious because he's eighteen feet tall and just as wide. He doesn't say anything, which is nice, just squeezes you tight and then tighter, so you have to laugh and feign like you can't breathe, push him off and headbutt him in the center of his ridiculous chest.

_We love living here, you know that, right?_

_I know._

_It's just time for a change, shake things up a bit._

_I know, Steve, it's okay._

_We're family regardless, right?_

_Right._

You give him two thumbs up and he smiles that thousand-watt smile. His hair's sticking up funny but you've got no plans to tell him. You've seen the way Bucky goes all soft around the eyes when Steve's looking especially rumpled.

Can't blame him really - that's how the two of you met, after all, Steve was face-planted into a textbook freshman year of college, drooling on the pages and you couldn't resist the urge to flip the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, keep the light out of his eyes - of course you woke him up trying and one of his giant meat hands knocked the coffee out of yours, made a huge mess and got you both in trouble with the library staff. Afterwards Steve looked so guilty, all pink and hunched-over and he wouldn't stop insisting on getting you another coffee. He wasn't being smarmy about it and when he looked at you his eyes stayed trained on your face so you laughed and agreed. After that it turned out you had practically the same study schedule so of course it made sense to start sitting at the same table, in particular so you could kick him under it when he started falling asleep.

That was a long time ago, now. There have been changes in between and this will just be another one, you hope.

 

SEPTEMBER

Home is padding into the kitchen for coffee and stopping in the doorway to see Bucky at the table with a magazine and Steve at the stove making eggs and they're talking without even looking at each other, _did you take your meds already?_

_yup, you?_

_yeah, hey do we have any—_

_top left corner, behind the OJ_

_thanks_

_sure, hey, do you like natural wood or painted white?_

_for what?_

_mm, nothing_

_ok, oh hey Nat—_

Bucky flips the catalog closed and he's hiding behind his hair so your hand darts out to grab it, he's fast but you're faster and his thumb's still marking the—oh. Well great, now you're crying again, just one or two happy little tears that this man loves Steve so much he's looking at baby cribs from IKEA, you didn't even know they had those there, learn something new every day.

You start noticing baby stuff on display in store windows—never wanted kids of your own but _Auntie Nat_ has a pretty nice ring to it. You don't buy anything, don't want to jump the gun, they're not even married yet, but still...turns out you get a little thrill from comparing rocking chair styles, who'd have thought.

 _Gliders feel nice but there's a lot of moving parts,_ you text Bucky one evening and what do you know, he's got a whole pro-con list on hand. No wonder Steve likes him so much.

 

OCTOBER

Home is these two insufferable knuckleheads bickering over who gets go use the cardboard Captain America shield for halloween, _Steve, you said you wanted to be Thor, I'm attached now, look, I've got the ass for it and everything—_

 _No argument there, Buck, but think about it, my name is_ _Steve_ _, I have to be Cap—_

 _Look, if this is about the hammer getting squashed I_ _told_ _you we needed to let the glue dry. Besides, if you don't want it I'll use both, remember the last movie?_

_Buck you can't have both! That makes no sense, besides, if you're Steve then I obviously have to be Bucky, they kissed on-screen and everything, it's too cute not to and that's so messed up I WANT TO BE CAP GIVE IT HERE—_

Home is intervening before they can make too much of a mess of things and declaring that you'll be Cap, thank you, and you'll take the shield and the hammer, thank you again, _Steve you can be Rocket and Bucky you'll go as Groot, case closed._

It takes them a second to see the genius of it, _yes Steve, we'll get you a pair of ears and a tail, don't look so excited oh my god you total freak._

Bucky's eyes go all wide, _and I won't have to make conversation with_ _anyone_ _._

_Exactly, you're welcome, now: Shield and hammer, please!_

You swish your ass on the way out of the room, after all it's what Cap would do.

 

NOVEMBER

Home is Friendsgiving at your place even though there's not _really_ enough room, and somebody brought a turducken, which is just—why would you do that? Must have been Clint, honestly, kid gets on your last nerve sometimes but you've been friends since you were four years old, so it's not like you'll quit now over a little affront to nature and good sense.

 _Looks delicious,_ you sign across the room, and he looks pleased as punch, so.

At any rate, Steve's cousin Sharon brought her girlfriend Maria, and Bruce is here which is mildly awkward after last year but oh well.  Couple of new faces, too, kid named Peter who Bucky met in his grad seminar and a coworker of Steve's, guy named Sam and you really like his energy, kinda chill but alert at the same time and he's real cute, too, but you're not—well you just don't really—there's just a lot going on and it's not the right time for noticing people that way, you know? Things have been up in the air since the whole _you know, adults who are dating normally eventually have sex_ talk and it's not—he wasn't trying to be mean about it you just—you just kept saying _soon_ and you meant it at the time, you really thought _eventually_ you'd want to and _eventually_ you'd feel comfortable enough or safe enough or trusting enough or whatever but that switch just never flipped, okay? It's not your fault you didn't know, and anyway Bruce apologized and the breakup was amicable but there's just a lot of people in here, and—

_Hey, Nat, we're all out of cranberry sauce._

_What? We shouldn't be, I just checked—_

_Well we must have miscounted, do you think the store is still open?_

It takes you that long to see how Bucky's looking a little too steadily at you as he talks and you're positive there was enough but oh, oh it's adding up—

_Yeah, you know what, sorry about that, I'll run out and check, good idea, back in twenty._

He winks and you text him _thanks_ on your way out, crisp cool air already clearing your head.

The store's closed, of course, but that wasn't the point and when you get back you feel better and you're actually coming around to this whole turducken concept until someone chimes in that nowadays you can get them stuffed with a _quail_ as well and just, _come on._

Clint promises to bring one next year.

 

DECEMBER

Home is Bucky's first time in the mandatory annual soft PJs gift rotation—well, it used to just be a swap, you and Steve buying each other the fleeciest dorkiest pajama pants you could find but if they're gonna get married Bucky may as well get in on it.

Or so you figured, but then he missed the memo and got you a onesie, a onesie, _how the hell am I supposed to pee in this??_

 _I don't know?? I don't think about you_ _peeing??_

Steve's laughing so hard he's practically rolling on the floor, clutching his pec for dear life and Bucky looks mortified, you're never gonna let him live this down, _I am telling this story at your wedding—_

_Nooooooo—_

_Yesssss—_

_Nooooooooooooooo_

Anyway it's a pretty comfy onesie as it turns out and there's like...a flap thing or whatever so it's fine.

When you ask Bucky what Christmas movie he wants to watch and he looks at you like you have three heads and says _Die Hard?_ with a question mark at the end like it's absurd you even asked, you turn to Steve and mouth _He's a keeper_ and he mouths back _Told you so_ and then Bucky smacks him with a couch cushion.

 

JANUARY

Home is drinking hot chocolate in your fuzzy socks watching out the window at your two favorite people roughhousing in the snow, wondering when exactly it went from you and Steve and Steve's boyfriend to you and Steve and Bucky, like how does that happen, exactly, at what point do you cross that line from adjacent to encircled?

You still remember the first time Steve came home and couldn't stop talking about the cute new barista at the coffee place on the corner. By the time you actually _met_ Bucky you knew an absurd number of details about him, what he was studying in school, detailed descriptions of his every visible tattoo, the exact way he tucked his hair behind his ear before entering an order in the system. You were the one who suggested the whole ploy with the book - Steve leaving it behind with a note inside and sure enough the next day there it was behind the counter with Bucky's number scribbled on the note. Steve had paced the house for _hours_ trying to word his first text and eventually you went for a walk just to let him agonize in peace. By the time you got back he had his feet kicked up on the couch and a grin on his face and when he saw you he leapt up and hugged you so hard your back cracked.

That was then and this is now, the two of them devolved to stuffing handfuls of snow down the collars of each others' shirts, any second now they'll be clomping in with their sopping wet boots talking over each other at you, _he started it—no he did—_

Later you install Tinder on your phone because it's a new year and it seems like the thing to do, but you swipe left on every profile and that in itself feels kind of good, like, being available is not the same thing as being interested. What Steve and Bucky have sure seems really special but you're happy like this, loved differently maybe but no less.

 

FEBRUARY

February is cold and nothing much happens. The days still seem so short and you can't seem to stir up the energy to bundle up and go out. _Just one more night in_  you tell yourself, ten nights in a row and then you stop bothering to pretend.

 

MARCH

Steve and Bucky are having some kind of argument about seating charts for the reception, they've got little cut-out shapes and a diagram and they keep rearranging things.

You kind of want to go over and help but they seem far away somehow so you just stand in the doorway until Steve looks up and sees you, frowns and motions you over. When you get there he reaches out and pulls you into his lap, God, when was the last time that happened?

Bucky gets up from the table and puts water on for tea, grabs a box of cookies from the cupboard and sets them on the table in front of you with a little pat on your head. When you frown up at him he just winks and that makes you laugh and _that_ makes you realize you haven't heard that sound in weeks, maybe longer.

You stuff a cookie in your mouth and immediately see the solution to the seating chart conundrum. You don't get up afterward, though, just stay in Steve's lap with his absurd body heat warming you up and his voice rumbling against your back, talking about buffet-style vs sit-down service and open bar vs. drink tickets and a million other things you'd have no interest in except that it's important to these two lovebirds.

 

APRIL

In April your psychiatrist adjusts your meds and the last of the snow melts and the sun's out longer and you feel like you can breathe in all the way.

There's a calendar on the fridge with _COUNTDOWN TO WEDDING_ written across the top and every day one of you puts a big X through the date and doodles some more confetti in the margins.

You get in the habit of hugging Bucky on his right side in case his arm's bothering him. He takes to kissing the top of your head when you do and his curtain of hair always tickles. If Steve's around he'll drop whatever he's doing and come over to get in on it, smooshing you both until you're squeaking and giggling, and then Steve and Bucky will look at each other with such earnest adoration your heart hurts. What a couple of dorks.

 

MAY

Steve and Bucky found their new place a month early but they keep insisting they don't need any help planning the housewarming so you just focus on putting up craigslist ads and asking around for people looking for roommates because yes you just got a promotion at work and yes you could technically afford to live alone but it's just not the same. You like the feeling of people being around.

When the housewarming comes around it's suddenly clear why they didn't want you to help; sneaky bastards were planning a party for you to celebrate your promotion—sure you're the head of your whole division now but it wasn't _that_ big of a deal, your boss retired and who else was going to take over?

But apparently these losers think it _was_ a big deal because there's champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries and a huge banner spelling out _CONGRATULATIONS_ over the kitchen island. In the living room there's one of those ultra kooshy wicker basket chairs with a giant bow on it—the novelty kind you'd put on a car for your sixteen-year-old or something—and a drawing framed on the wall behind it that’s a doodle of you and the words _NAT'S SPOT_ , oh, Steve.

You cry a little but they're happy tears and the whole crew from Thanksgiving is there except Bruce (lab thing) and Sam (work trip)—Steve does tell you _Sam says congrats_ and that makes your stomach do a little flutter, which is ridiculous because you only met the once but truth be told he's been hovering in the back of your mind ever since. You even went on a couple Tinder dates last month but none of them had that kind of...what do you call that, even? When you feel a kind of magnetic pull towards a person.

Not that it matters, really. You put it out of your mind and dance in the kitchen to Bucky's playlist which somehow has all your favorites on it, you didn't even know he knew what you listen to. _I'm observant_ , he says when you ask, and then he spins you around, a proper spin, one way and then the other and suddenly you ache to be up on tiptoe, you just want to move, maybe it's the champagne or the snacks or the feeling of being so welcome and cared for but you feel like there are wings unfurling at your back and you want to fly.

When you get home you dig your dance shoes out of the back of your closet and set them in the middle of the floor in one of the empty bedrooms; maybe you'll only rent out one of the two spares for now.

 

JUNE

Home is walking Steve down the left-hand aisle while Bucky's sister Becca walks him down the right-hand one; you meet in the middle and it's hugs all around. _How many orphans does it take to hold a wedding,_ you deadpan later, at the start of your toast. It's the kind of joke you can only tell from inside the club, and all four of you laugh because what else are you gonna do?

Dinner's a blast, everyone chatting and laughing and clinking their glasses together every five minutes to get Steve and Bucky to kiss. They're shy about it at first, chaste little pecks, but eventually Steve's theatrical streak wins out and he's hauling Bucky up out of his chair to dip him like a lovelorn damsel, to the raucous amusement of all. One time the clinking starts while Steve's out of the room so Bucky leans across and plants a kiss on your cheek, it's just about the sweetest thing. God, you're so happy for Steve.

After dinner it's photos, an archway set up outside against the backdrop the summer sunset. You're watching from the sidelines as Steve and Bucky pose, but before you know it they're calling you over, _get in here_ , and you take one serious shot and then a dozen silly ones, pulling faces and batting at each other. It's Sam taking the photos, and he keeps cursing you all for making him laugh, _trying to keep my hand steady over here_!

It's not long after you get back inside that the music really gets going and people start taking off their neckties and shoes. Steve's got two left feet so he mostly only joins in for the slow songs, preferring to gab in the corner and occasionally whistle while you and Bucky spin each other around the floor.

And if you maybe catch Sam watching once or twice—his camera not quite poised to shoot, as if he got distracted partway through lining up the shot—well, that's just a bonus.

Home is collapsing in bed at three in the morning, asleep in seconds with a smile on your face.

 

JULY

Home is brunch every Sunday at Steve and Bucky's and board games at your place Tuesday nights, plus whatever shenanigans you get up to in between. More evenings than not you end up on their porch or them on yours, sipping sangria and chatting about whatever—work (you and Steve), grad school (Bucky), what breed of dog they should adopt (greyhound from the local breed rescue), how your dance class is going (terrific, nothing like you remember from childhood, just a bunch of people doing something they like for fun).

Sam starts dropping by more and more, too, and those nights are some of your favorites—or maybe that's not the right word, it's just different. You and Steve go back forever, when it's just the two of you it's like settling into your favorite hoodie, comfortable and familiar. With Bucky in the mix there's another dimension and with Sam there even more so, like a continuous push-pull, four sets of opinions and interests all tugging and bouncing off each other. Something feels right about it, anyway, like a clock with all its gears in.

You find yourself hoping the summer never ends, and then a second later realizing, hey, once fall rolls around there'll be hot cider and pumpkin carving and piles of leaves in the backyard, what's there to worry about? The set pieces might change but the players aren't going anywhere.

 

AUGUST

Home is knowing right away when you finally spot the right response to your roommates ad. Carol, Maria and their daughter Monica move in within a week of your first meeting them all. They remind you so much of Steve and Bucky, and just as you predicted the whole lot of you get along like a house on fire (Sam too).

You schedule an extra night a week of dance class since you don't have any more empty rooms at home, and that turns out just fine in the end, apparently the Wednesday class is where all the queer kids hang out and you fit right in.

( _Do we still count as the queer kids if we're mostly over 30_ , you muse aloud one week during cool-down stretches and everyone laughs and says _yeah_ and _I don't see why not._ )

 

SEPTEMBER

When you turn up at Steve and Bucky's this evening they're sitting at the dining room table holding hands, Bucky's tablet on the table, stunned happy looks on their faces and tears in their eyes.

_Just got off video chat. Becca wants to be our surrogate next year._

You don't bother taking your shoes off, just give them one big hug each with a kiss on the temple for good measure, then pad back out and pull the door shut behind you. They're already talking in soft voices, hands clasped together and heads leaned close, before you're out the door.

You head for the pool hall, in the mood to be out and on your feet. Your favorite bartender is working - goes by Thor, no idea if that's his real name. He's got a heck of a beard and a beer belly and always has a laugh and a wink for you when you come in.

Of course, who's there at the back table but Sam and a couple of folks you don't recognize - they were just finishing up, apparently, but Sam sticks around and you play a few games. He's good but you're better, and he takes it in stride.

You tell him about Steve and Bucky and Becca—they won't mind, you're sure— _can you imagine?_

Sam shrugs. _Kinda. Might be a while before I meet the right person though, since I don't really date, what with the whole asexual thing._

You blink at him four times before answering, _ace folks can date, I do._

Now it's his turn to look a little stunned, _How has this never come up before?_

You shrug, _don't talk about it a lot._

_Me neither, I guess. Feels like TMI somehow._

_Right? Like. That doesn't make any sense though you know?_

_Man, world's fucked up._

_That it is._

You play a few more rounds and on the way out Sam helps you into your coat and holds the door which you would normally bristle at but coming from him it doesn't feel like… it just feels like someone keeping an eye out and that's kind of nice.

 

OCTOBER

Home is realizing that as a group of four is perfect for a Wizard of Oz theme this year. Party's at Clint's place (they have a pool table) and Bucky's Dorothy costume is a hit. You don't look half-bad as the scarecrow, either, and Sam rocks his tin man getup. Steve spends the entire party growling and giggling at Bucky, twirling his felt lion tail. You fall asleep on the sofa with straw in your hair.

 

NOVEMBER

One of the regular instructors at your dance school comes down with the flu three weeks before recital time, which is how you find yourself dropping everything to spend your weekday evenings coaching gaggles of preschoolers through their charming little routines. You have a knack for it, apparently, because the director asks if you'd like to get involved in teaching next term. You surprise yourself by saying yes, no hesitation.

The recital turns out perfectly—both the kids' performance and your own—and your friends take up a whole row of seats on one side of the auditorium. When did you ever get so lucky? They even manage to hide the flowers until afterwards, the sneaky bunch.

 

DECEMBER

It's only the 22nd but there's a package under Steve and Bucky's tree with a huge tag on it that says "Steve - Open Me First." Everyone but Steve knows what it is and it's just a matter of waiting for Sam to get here—ah, finally.

You all crowd around the tree, Ella Fitzgerald on the sound system and egg nog in hand, while Steve tears up the paper. Inside is a Martingale collar - he recognizes it right away as the special collar you need for a greyhound, their heads are smaller than their necks, apparently. Tucked inside is a color photo of a beautiful sleek dog, brindle colored with delicate legs and huge eyes.

 _She's waiting at the rescue for us,_ Bucky says, and you pull out a set of car keys and jangle them in Steve's face. The rental SUV has the crate all loaded in the back already and Sam brought snacks for the road. It's a two-hour drive each way and Steve keeps exclaiming things like _I could've helped_ and _You didn't have to_ and _Is she really for us?_ Every time you glance up in the mirror Bucky's got this smile on his face like there's nowhere he'd rather be than here.

You look over at Sam in the passenger seat and you can tell he recognizes the feeling, same as you. It's a straight stretch of quiet road so you take one hand off the wheel and set it on the console, palm up. Sam takes it right away and you know you're blushing, can't quite bear to make eye contact, so you glance up in the mirror instead and Bucky winks.

Steve, oblivious, is looking out his window mumbling about dog names. Bucky elbows him and he squeaks, looks around, sees - reaches up and squeezes your shoulder with one big warm hand.

 _You should know,_ he pipes up suddenly, leaning up between the seats to look Sam in the eye, _Nat has terrible handwriting._

 

END

 


End file.
